


Happy to Yelp

by Cannebady



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's award-winning customer service, Crowley's questionable fashion sense, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Reading bookshop reviews online, Starring Anthony J. Crowley as His Own Worst Enemy (4004 BC to Present), shockingly no angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cannebady/pseuds/Cannebady
Summary: Just some good old-fashioned ribbing featuring a self-righteous angel and a demon that just can't get out of his own way.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 195





	Happy to Yelp

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt from Captainclickycat for Aziraphale and Crowley reading reviews for the bookshop.

In hindsight, Crowley isn't sure why he set the blasted thing up to begin with. It was, more than likely (read: _most definitely_ ), the result of quite an _extraordinary_ amount of alcohol, because all of his best (read: _worst_ ) ideas have always started that way and why would this one be any different?

This one, evidently, was him setting up an official Yelp account for A.Z. Fell & Co., Antiquarian and Unusual Books located singularly in one London, Soho. He's sure that it'd seemed like it'd be a laugh riot at the time, though he's not entirely sure why, and he's sure that his sloshed self had been perfectly positive that Aziraphale would never even find the page so _honestly_ what did it matter?

What his sozzled brain hadn't counted on was that, for all of his long and storied existence, he'd been the architect of his own irritations and, like the best of cosmic jokes, it seems that he would continue to be for the rest of bloody eternity.

First of all, he'd truly never thought that Aziraphale would acquire, much less actually use, a mobile phone. But, here in the after of the world that shouldn't have been, it seems that stranger things have truly happened. Of course it didn't help that he'd kept _suggesting_ that Aziraphale get one and then, had gone so far as to actually present the angel with one, fully loaded. He just hadn't counted on the angel taking the blasted thing with his bright, shiny, sea-foam eyes, to which Crowley had no functional defenses, and then take to using it like a fish to water.

The second thing, that came on the tails of learning to use his mobile, was that Aziraphale discovered that he could look up restaurants wherever they were and didn't have to count on Crowley to do so. Additionally, there were _reviews_ he could look at that were just, "So _helpful_ Crowley! Look at these humans, inventing something so useful. They always have been wonderfully creative." Each word was imbued with absolutely heinous amounts of love and good will and Crowley was really just the worst demon there ever was, because he was so damn _charmed_ by Aziraphale being charmed that he didn't put two-and-two together before it stuck him upside the head like a two-by-four.

\---

"Crowley", Aziraphale whispered intently while Crowley was quite comfortably napping on the back room sofa.

Crowley tried to ignore it, he really did. He was so _wonderfully_ comfortable and it really would be a shame to wake up. However, it's been established that he has fuck-all in terms of ability to deny Aziraphale anything, so of course he took the bait.

"Yes angel?", he replied, trying to infuse demonic levels of annoyance of nonchalance (read: _sleepy, part-yawn, part-soft demon noises_ ) into his tone.

"There are reviews, for the bookshop, on the Yelp!"

It takes Crowley a minute to catch up, because he's still not used to Aziraphale having internet access or knowing what something like Yelp is. He's about to wonder aloud what customer would actually be satisfied enough with Aziraphale's customer service skills to go so far as to write a review about it, before he realizes that _he's_ the one who set up the account in the first place and promptly forgot.

"Wha, erm, what're they saying angel?" he asks, just a bit concerned that this might all be traced back to him.

Aziraphale scrolls down to the first review and Crowley comes up to read over his shoulder.

**Marci S.**

**Soho, London, United Kingdom**

**2 Stars - 25/1/2020**

**"I've lived in Soho for years and finally decided to go in. The shop is in complete disarray, but the selection is great. I was satisfied until I actually tried to buy a book. The shopkeeper was icy, difficult, and downright combative. I left empty-handed. Not worth it."**

Crowley cringes for a second, before Aziraphale huffs.

"Well, _honestly_ , what did she expect? Hefting a first edition Austen around like that. Am I supposed to sell that to just _anyone_?" And Crowley wishes he wasn't so fucking impressed by Aziraphale's lack of propriety in these situations, but here he is, smiling like a loon.

"Oh, well of course. Why would she think she could buy a book in a book shop?" He gives a patented shit-eating grin which Aziraphale returns with an eye roll so well rehearsed it'd put Liz Lemon to shame.

"What else, angel?" Crowley asks because he's a glutton for punishment and he just loves that he still gets to rile Aziraphale up. That there's still a world where he can.

"Well, ah, here's another one." Aziraphale scrolls and lands on the next review which is, somehow _worse_.

**Peter W.**

**Covent Garden, London, United Kingdom**

**1 Star - 22/12/2019**

**"Ponce of a shop owner wouldn't let me look at any of the rarer books. Been looking for a first edition Wilde for my son but the pansy wouldn't even let me near, real bastard he was."**

Crowley can't help himself. Aziraphale is radiating righteous anger and looking more indignant by the second and it's just _too good_. Crowley's practical jokes _never_ work out this well and he didn't even need to manufacture the reviews! A.Z. Fell & Co. has a 1.7 rating overall and he knows, he just _knows_ , that every single one of those reviews are 100% honest.

Horribly, once he starts laughing, he can't quite stop. It takes the angel a second to realize that Crowley's breathy sounds aren't commiserating sounds of support but are rather poorly held back guffaws and he pulls out his best thin lipped glare and that's it, that's the end of Crowley's self control. He starts laughing in earnest, nearly bent over at the waist and feeling tears line his eyes, when he hears a truly irritated _squawk_ leave Aziraphale's mouth.

He tries to speak through his bouts of laughter, "Oh, hah, angel, you-," he breaks off again, "you really _are_ a bastard though." To which he receives a _thunderous_ look, laced with millennia of angelic righteousness, a scathing, “ _Do shut up”_ , and a fussy turn that would've been a hair flip had Aziraphale had the hair to do so.

Aziraphale is manically scrolling before he stops and the air changes. If Crowley had been less filled with mirth, or had been less self-confident, he would've felt the change in tension. He would've realized that the specific change meant that Aziraphale had found _exactly_ what he needed and that he was about to hand Crowley's arse to him for the 99 millionth time in their very long lives. But, as it was, Crowley was feeling far too chuffed for anything so fleeting as self-awareness.

When he finally looks back to the angel, planning a bit more gloating, he sees a carefully serene, calm smile reaching back, and his blood runs ice cold. This can't _possibly_ be good.

"Well, how about _this_ one, then?", he says and gestures for Crowley to read what's on the screen.

**Naya L.**

**Lambeth, London, United Kingdom**

**4 Stars - 13/10/2019**

**"Mr. Fell is actually quite nice, if a bit fussy once you get to know him. He really knows his stuff. He let me use some of his original texts for my thesis. A bit odd, though, every time I went to do a bit more work or look at a new text, there was a man completely asleep, snoring, on the sofa. Weird look about him, sunglasses while indoors (even while sleeping?) and lots of black leather, definitely dyes his hair red. Looked a bit like a washed up rock star. Maybe a friend of Mr. Fell's? Either way, the selection is fantastic even if it smells a bit odd and seems a bit dingy."**

Crowley's not laughing now. It takes a moment for him to register that the "indignant squawk" he heard was actually from his own mouth rather than the angel's.

"How dare she-, a _washed up-_ , these are _Valentino_!" He yells gesturing wildly towards his own face and the sunglasses that aren’t actually there at the moment, creating more of a chaotic flapping than any recognizable gesture. And now it's the angel's turn to stifle a giggle behind a well-manicured hand. "And I do not _dye_ my hair! It's just like this! I'm a _demon_ , remember?"

At this, Aziraphale starts making a sound that Crowley will respectfully refer to as _cackling_. Of course, this was going just _too well_. And he clearly needed to stop kipping on the sofa as often as he did or it'd do awful things to his carefully crafted reputation.

"Oh, my dear, that's just _divine”_ the angel says wiping an ancient handkerchief primly under his eyes. Crowley wants to be annoyed, and he is to some extent (he'll find bloody _Naya L._ and give her a _piece of his mind_ , he will), but Aziraphale is just so _happy_ and he's a true sucker for that laugh and that smile.

"M'not _washed up_ , m'just _retired_." Through the haze of exasperation, he realizes, perhaps for the first time, that he really is. Retired, a retired demon. That’s what he is. Aziraphale seems to realize it too, because his smile morphs from snide and down right _bastardly_ to _warm_ so quickly it gives Crowley emotional whiplash.

"Yes, I suppose we are, dear." The angel puts down the phone and herds Crowley toward the sofa where they can get comfortable; Aziraphale seated on the far end and Crowley's head comfortably pillowed in his lap, angelic fingers carding through his (definitely, _absolutely not, dyed_ ) hair.

Were either of them to look at Aziraphale's phone screen, they'd see the review just below Naya L., which read simply:

**Damian R.**

**Soho, London, United Kingdom**

**5 Stars - 10/10/2019**

**"Can’t remember why I went in there in the first place but there was a huge snake. Just a real big snake, all black and red and** _ **gigantic**_ **. Just sitting in the bookshop, not sure why. Nice lookin snake overall tho. Would probably go back."**


End file.
